


My Best Friend's Wedding

by TheAwkwardQueen (orphan_account)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Clubowner!Niall, Doctor!Liam, Fluff, Happy Ending, Love Triangle, M/M, May not end the way you want it to, Minor Character Death, My Best Friend's Wedding AU, Producer!Louis, Singer!Harry, Singer!Zayn, Smut, Trigger warning for suicide, Unrequited Love, Zayn Malik and Liam Payne are Best Men, just saying, larry - Freeform, larry wedding, wedding sabotage, ziam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-31 17:24:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3986515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/TheAwkwardQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn has had enough of letting his love go, waiting for him to come back. He decides to fight this time, before Harry leaves him forever.<br/>~inspired the movie My Best Friend's Wedding~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Decided To Leave

"So will you be my Best Man?"  
Zayn was dumbstruck. He hadn't imagined this, hadn't. This could not be happening. This had to be a bad dream, and he would wake up and everything would be alright again.  
"Zayn?"  
He looked at Harry with a start, he had forgotten he was right in front of him.Harry looked worried, Zayn could only imagine what his face looked like right now.  
"Are you OK?"  
Harry reached across the table and placed his hand on top of his in a sign of reassurance.Zayn stared the place their hands touched.  
"Yeah. I'm completely alright."  
"Great,"Harry flashed him a bright, dimpled smile before withdrawing his hand, leaving Zayn feeling cold all of a sudden.Harry would never be his. Never.  
"So you will, right? Be my Best Man?"  
There were traces of doubt in his voice, as if Zayn would, ever could say no to him.  
"Yeah. Sure."  
"Really?"  
His childlike enthusiasm and joy had Zayn smile, even though his heart was breaking, bit by bit.  
"Of course. You are my best friend, after all."  
Best Friends. Zayn hated those two words, the two words that had ruined his life. He could never be more than a best friend to Harry, and yet Harry was so much more than a best friend to him.Harry pulled him into a hug and Zayn realised that that was the closest Harry would ever let Zayn come. He laughed as he hugged him back, but closed his eyes the moment he had his head on Harry's shoulder and just breathed him in. It was a scent that was so familiar to him, so comforting. Like going home.  
"You are the bestest best friend ever. You know that?"  
Zayn smiled.  
"I am, aren't I?"  
And that was so true, even on a level that Harry would never understand.  
¤  
  
 _f you love something, let it go. If it was meant to be, it will come back to you._  
That had been Zayn's motto all throughout his life, especially when it came to Harry.He had read it in a book, or some place, years and years ago. He could now vouch for the fact that the saying was complete and utter shit. He had been letting go of Harry, everytime he should have held on. And now, he would lose him forever.Or was this letting go? Was this the actual test of his love for Harry?

He smiled bitterly to himself, remembering all the times before he had thought the same. All the times he had let Harry go, hoping he would actually come back to him.This time Harry would go, and never come back.

But Zayn wouldn't let him go this time. Zayn would fight for Harry, fight for a person who was rightfully his. 


	2. When I Met Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to tell me what you think of this story!  
> And I don't own 1D and blah, blah, blah...  
> Which is obvious because if I did 'own' them, I wouldn't be writing fan fiction now, would I? ;)

Zayn was drunk. Piss drunk, in fact. But the fact that he could comprehend the fact that he was drunk, made him, in fact, not so drunk at all.

What the hell was he thinking?  


Everything was confusing, and the beat from the club was pounding in his head.

"There's nothing lonelier than drinking alone", said the bartender with a smirk, raising his voice to make himself heard over the music.  
Zayn looked at him for a second, eyes squinting to make out his face in the ever changing, flashing lights.  
The bartender had curly hair, and green eyes and...  
He was more drunk than he thought he was, because the person in front of him looked just like Harry.  
And maybe that's why he spent fifteen minutes snogging and touching this stranger in the washroom, because when you can't have the real deal, you make do with a fake.  
  
He knew this could have consequences, knew he could have his face on every celebrity gossip site tomorrow, but at that moment nothing else mattered.  
The bartender, John, probably, sucked on his neck, mumbling about how beautiful he was. He got that almost everyday, but not from the person he wanted to have it from.Just before things could go farther from there, he left.

There were no paps outside, which was always a relief, but he could have given anything to have someone with him. He had forgotten to call Paul, and tell him. He knew it was dangerous, going out alone. However, after getting the wonderful news, this seemed to be a logical step at that time. Drinking to forget your worries, drowning in your own misery, the same old stuff.

He stumbled towards his car, parked on the other side of the road. He had just taken a few, hesitant steps, when suddenly there was a bright light on his face. He pulled up his hand to the front of his face to block it, thinking it was just a pap taking a snap.

The light grew brighter, and suddenly there was a shriek, a shouted "Hey!", before soemthing came hurling towards him and he was falling back over the sidewalk, a heavy, warm weight on top of him. He hit his head hard and groaned in pain.  
After the initial shock was over, he heard some shouting and he opened his eyes.All he noticed was a car,a face close to his and a few people gathered around.

So the light had been from the headlights

.

The weight disappeared from on top of him, and he felt his head being lifted from the ground, hands cupping gently around his neck.  
"Are you hurt?", the face he had noticed before asked.  
He stared at the brown, worried eyes as hands roamed through his hair, checking for wounds and bleeding, finding them vaguely familiar.  
Normally, he would be pissed at someone touching his hair, but he couldn't. He wanted to say something, but he couldn't.The man was still worriedly looking at him, his hands gentle while he held his head up.

"Look at the light ok?", was all he said before there was a flashlight shining into Zayn's eyes, and he immediately closed them reflexively. His head was still throbbing, a dull ache and the light seemed to intensify that.  
"Hey, open your eyes, yeah, just for a second."  
He opened them again and the guy checked both of his eyes, made a satisfied sound and switched his phone's flashlight off.

"Can you stand up, Zayn?"  
Zayn wasn't shocked,it was normal for poeple to recognize him, but what intrigued him was that his name was uttered with a hint of familiarity.  
The guy, who was crouched beside him stood up and offered his hand to Zayn.  
He looked at it warily, before looking back at the man again.  
The pain had sobered him up, and he was always suspicious of strangers, even kind ones. Especially kind ones.  
"Do I know you?", he asked, not too kindly.  
"Yeah. I mean, not exactly, uh... I am Liam, Louis' mate? We've met before, at dinner?"

Oh right. His name sounded familiar, but his face didn't. He met lots of people everyday, and he couldn't always commit them to memory. Just the important ones, and Louis' mates were never on his list of them.

Liam. Louis' mate. Louis, who was getting married to Harry...  


He ignored the outstretched hand and stood up on his own, stumbling a bit, but of course Liam was there to catch him. He shrugged out of his grasp and looked around. The people around had dispersed and the car had disappeared.  
He muttered a thank you before proceeding towards his car again, when Liam caught up to him and spun him around gently.

"I am not letting you drive. Not like this."

"Get off me! Who the fuck do you think you are?", Zayn shot back. He didn't know why he was so angry suddenly, but something always tripped inside him whenever Louis' name was mentioned.

Liam looked taken aback, and then his face hardened.  
"Look, you can put your life in danger, if you want. But I'm not letting you kill someone else."

"I am fine!"

"No, you are not. You were just about to get run over by a car, Zayn."  
He was calm, quiet, like trying to reason with a small child, standing with his hands shoved deep into his pocket defiantly.

Zayn had no answer to that and he was getting angrier by the second...  
He just needed to go home, for God's sake. He didn't need some mate of Louis showing him pity. He didn't need anyone.  
Well, except for someone.  
He suddenly felt very, very sick and very, very lonely. He felt tears sting his eyes. He got horrible mood swings when he was drunk, and this seemed to be just another instance.  
He was just so tired. He was tired of smiling, hiding his pain. He was tired of pretending he was fine alone. He was tired of loving someone and not being loved back. He was tired of being a human being, and not treated like one.

"Please, just, just go Liam. Please. I'll be fine,"he sighed.

He didn't wait for an answer, just walked as steadily as he could before reachimg his car.  
He had a dizzy spell, and before he knew he was on his knees, vomitting on the sidewalk.  
Oh, only if anyone saw him. He could make the Guiness Book of World Records for being so utterly pathetic.

Liam was by his side in seconds, offering him water and dragging him off to his car. Zayn couldn't find the strength to argue with him anymore, and he didn't realise that he hadn't told him where his house was at all, busy drowning in his own misery.


	3. I Know You Don't Need Me

When Zayn woke up the next day, he was confused. He didn't recognize the dark blue duvet or the light blue satin sheets underneath him, nor the white, soft pillow under his head. The room was sufficiently spacious, just the right amount of big. Dark blue curtains blocked out the light, and he felt grateful for his benefactor's thoughtfulness.

The room was bare of any personal articles, almost resembling a hotel room, but the bedside table had a comic book coaster,with a glass of water and a strip of Aspirin on it,there was a vacuum cleaner in the corner near the curtained windows that definitely spelled home. If not his, someone else's.

Which brought him back to the question, where was he?

He remembered the previous night's events and groaned into his palms, sitting up on the bed.  
This was going to be so embarassing.  
The pain that he had somehow managed to keep suppressed by distracting himself, taking in his surroundings, returned with full vigour.  
He had drunk enough to cause a huge hangover, hitting his head on top of that probably hadn't been a very wise choice.He sighed, reaching for the water and gulping down the medicine, before making his way to the bathroom.

The cold marble floor stung when he walked across, and when he reached the bathroom he tried his best not to look at his reflection.  
Yet, he did look because inflicting pain on himself was one of his favourite passtimes these days.  
His hair stuck out all weird, no doubt the result of someone running hands through it, and he wondered whether it was Jamie? Or Liam who had caused it. His eyes were bloodshot, and swollen and he looked haggard, diseased, broken- a faint shadow of his former self.

_Love will do that to you._

For some people, love was what made them better people. Love made very wrong seem right, love acted as the guiding light through darkness, and whatever clichèd shit people talked about.

But he knew the uglier side of it as well, could see it in himself, the way he was wasting away. The person he wanted right in front of him and yet unreachable. And he should be knowing this, because in films someone is chosen and the other discarded in a love triangle. The people making the film might potray the one left out as a horrible character, not worthy of love, all black, but he knew that was not possible. He was not all black, there was some white in him too, a part that could be loved, that was worthy to be loved just as much as the angelic chosen one, who could do nothing wrong.

Fuck. It was too early in the morning for those deep, philosophical thoughts that swept him away from reality sometimes.

There was a disgusting bitter taste in his mouth, no doubt from the vomit which he rinsed out, since he didn't find a toothpaste tube.  
He splashed water on his face, took a deep breath and was going to walk out when he felt his phone vibrate.  
Oh shit.  
He unlocked his phone. There were 17 missed calls from Harry, lots of texts and he only had time to read the last one, which was from Simon.  
 _Call me._ He knew from those two words that he was in big trouble, some of the events of last night had probably landed up on some websites.

He walked out fast, slamming the mahogany door behind him, reaching this huge living room that made him gape.

Well someone was in love with blue.

The walls were a light variant of the colour, and there were light blue lace curtains on the sides of the huge windows,flying a little as a light breeze blew in. A huge picture hung from the wall opposite to him, Liam with a beautiful girl, both of them smiling at the camera. He stared at it. So it was Liam's apartment. The room may have been looking like a film set, but there was a sense of sadness to it's beauty that made him feel depressed.

"So you're up."

Liam's voice distracted himfrom his reverie, and he jumped. He turned around to see Liam in a black t shirt and jeans, smiling at him. Which he shouldn't be after the way Zayn had treated him, even after he had saved his sorry ass.

He flushed and ducked his head, not being able to meet his eyes.  
"I am sorry,"he mumbled and looked up.Liam looked confused, his brows scrunched up. There was a slight stubble on his jaws and his brown eyes became more puppy like. He looked adorable.

"Why?"

Zayn scratched the back of his head, bashful as he answered.  
"I am sorry for treating you that way. You basically saved my life, and I was rude to you. I am just,"he sighed deeply,"I wish I coud explain it to you, but I can't, and I don't know... I am just so sorry."  
Liam smiled at him again.  
"I have been drunk before. I am not holding you responsible for whatever you said or did."  
Zayn smiled in gratitude.

"So why didn't you take me home? Like my home?", Zayn hurried to make it clear.

"Um. You didn't actually tell your house was before you passed out, so..."

Of course Zayn would do something like that. Like expecting someone to magically know the way to his house.  
Like expecting someone to know he loved him.

"Oh."

Zayn could feel his ears go red. Really? He could invent a new shade of that colour.There was a beat of silence.  


"So would you like a late, late breakfast?",Liam asked.

"Late? Isn't it morning?"

Liam looked at him, shaking his head fondly.  
"It's almost 12, Zayn."  
Horror filled him. Simon had sent him the text almost 4 hours ago.  
"I can't. I have to rush. Thanks,"Zayn says already halfway across the room, towards the room, panicstricken.

Simon was going to kill him. Slowly, burn him, no, roast him slowly over fire...

"Um, Zayn?", Liam called out after him.  
"Yeah?", he said already putting on his shoes.  
"There are some people who want to meet you."  
And there was someone very familiar standing behind him.

Harry.

Zayn gaped at him with one of his combat boots still in his hand.His nostrils were flaring and his eyebrows were knit together in a frown.  
Zayn smiled sheepishly and waved at him with the hand that still held the boot.  
Harry's eyebrows knit up more and he didn't smile.  
Fuck. He was angry.  
It was not an emotion that really suited Harry, neither it was seen often on his face.  
And that could be used as an excuse for why he tripped over next.

As soon as Harry stumbled, Zayn was retracing his steps, towards Harry. He had always beem an clumsy oaf, gangly and awkward. It didn't help that he was so busy concentrating on how angry he was. Zan was used to this, helping Harry up whenever he fell down.

Before he could reach Harry, there was another set of hands on him, holding him up, preventing him from falling flat on his face.  
The cerulean blue eyes were not hard to miss.  
Louis Tomlinson. Louis fucking Tomlinson was here  
.Of course he was. This was his best mate's house after all.  
And Harry was his fiancè.  
Zayn stopped dead in his tracks. He knew he looked stupid, half way across the room to help someone who already had someone else. He felt awkward and embarassed as Louis helped Harry to straighten up again, having appeared, no doubt from the same room Harry had. Louis giggled and called Harry silly, while brushing invisible dust from Harry's open-to-the chest floral shirt, and they both leaned in for a kiss.  
Zayn looked away then, not wanting to interfere in that intimate moment, not wanting to see their love struck faces and feel all hope inside him dissipate in a second. It seemed like they wanted to rub it in, force Zayn to believe it, that he was no one. It was like the whole thing was to show him that there was no use for him anymore in Harry's life, cause Louis was there for him now.  
He wanted Harry to be happy, he did. But it would have been better if it was with him and not someone else.

Liam cleared his throat loudly and Zayn could see the teasing smile on his face.The headache returned with full force as Zayn watched Louis and Harry separate, smiling at each other and bumping their noses.  
Then, Harry turned on him again.  
"Zayn, why didn't you pick up your phone? I called you so many times, I was so worried..."  
Zayn looked surprised for a moment.  
"Um, I didn't actually know that you had called...um, I was kind of busy, and-"  
Harry snorted.  
"Busy drinking?"  
Zayn shook his head.  
"He was worried sick mate. The least you could have done was text him. So he didn't have to know next morning fromSugarscape that his best friend had spent the night getting shitfaced."  
It was Louis who spoke to him, slight disappointment in his voice, which Zayn avoided because honestly he couldn't care less.  
"I'm sure he did."  
The words were out of his mouth before he could help it, and he saw how stiff Harry went. But he couldn't change it, wouldn't, because he was angry again. He needed to get out of there fast.

"I'm sorry, but I have to run. Thanks again Liam,"was all he said before he was once again at the door, putting on his second shoe and then he was leaving. No one stopped him.  
He made it to the street before he felt the sting of the tears.  
Harry caring even a little bit about him was the biggest joke he had ever heard. He knew it was unfair, obviously Harry cared for his friend. But not enough, never enough. Not like he wanted him to. Not like he cared about Louis. Never.  
And Zayn was the one to blame for it, wasn't he? He had chosen this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I reply to everyone who had commented? If I haven't please tell me, because I don't like not replying to people


	4. Nostalgia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is short short, because I'm down.  
> So anyway, I enjoyed reading all of your wonderful suggestions and I agree with all of them. However, a really sad fact is that stories can have only one ending. So I have decided to do what I intended to do in the first place, and maybe later I could write a different ending for this one...  
> :)  
> Thanks to ZiiZii for saying that she would love this story, any direction it went in and escapebox for having such an out of the box idea.  
> Sorry for the horrible puns.  
> I think this note is bigger than the chapter itself.

Zayn should have known.  
Zayn should have known that there was a reason why boundaries were called _boundaries_. He should have known at least some of them weren't to be crossed.  


He should have known and he _had_ , but he couldn't help it.

It didn't happen at first sight, or first word, or first touch, but slowly. Slowly, but intensely. Slowly, but deeply. So deep, that he couldn't ever take that part out of him even if he tried.

Zayn remembered it often, when he was looking to be happy. But all it did was make him sad.

For that one year, he had _had_ Harry. Maybe not in a way that he would have liked to have him, but he had been there.  
He hadn't quite appreciated it, what he had with Harry, even though people would dismiss the idea that it was having anything at all.  


And maybe that was because he didn't know then what it would be like to lose him.

But he did now.

It was almost a week before their almost anniversary, if it could be called that, when it happened.

They were just lying beneath the duvet, not kissing or cuddling, because that wasn't something they did, coming down from their high.

Then Harry had gotten up, started buttoning up his shirt and then pulling his boxers and pants on saying that he had to meet someone.  
They way Harry had said it had made it clear that this person was a lot more than just someone. There had been a spark in his eyes, which he hadn't seen in them since he had broken up with Nick, not even when Zayn was with him.  


Zayn had stared. Harry had looked beautiful mumbling abashedly about this someone, smiling to himself sometimes.

Zayn had felt a sinking feeling deep in his stomach as Harry dressed up, lying naked under the sheets, wishing that he could stop him from leaving. Wishing that Harry wouldn't, just because of Zayn

Zayn had always known throughout the twelve months that this would happen, that eventually this thing they had would end. But he hadn't known that sometime along the course of those twelve months he would start dreading that moment. That he would start wishing that what they had would mean to more to Harry than just sex.

Zayn's mom always used to say that his I-don't-give-a-damn attitude rooted from the fact that he did actually give a lot of damn about things. Zayn always had wished that it wasn't true. But it was.

So Zayn should have known. Should have known that this would happen, that one of them would fall for the other. And he had known, but he had been foolish enough to wish that the other person would fall for him too.  
But he didn't blame Harry.  
He could never.

Harry had never shared a bed with him since that day.


	5. When I Fought...

Zayn ignored it when the doorbell rang because he couldn't bring himself to care about it.

He had spent the last two days locked inside his apartment, which he did sometimes when he didn't feel like facing the world outside, which held no happiness for him.

Instead he did things that actually brought him happiness like drawing and reading. One wall of his apartment was completely devoted to his art. Sometimes he would paint over the whole wall, then paint over it again, covering all his work. Yeah, maybe sometimes all that the paintings were were spray painted 'Fuck you's on the wall, but sometimes when an artist has got to release his own frustration, he could be unimaginative. The room where this wall was, was his library of sorts. Books lay on shelves and on the ground, and a couch lay in the centre of all the chaos, where he used to sit and read.  
Sometimes even on the carpet.  
And just to his side lay the reason this room was his favourite- a floor to ceiling window, which he could look down from. He could be away from the world and yet close to it. It reminded him of reality when he got too caught up with his imagination. He would just look to his side, and it would remind him that, however hard he tried he wouldn't, couldn't escape from the world. It tethered him firmly to reality, told him all stories don't have a fairytale ending.

This was where he was when the bell rang again and he felt irritated. He had been painting, something, he didn't know what yet, and his mind just kept replaying the words Simon had said to him

_You are acting out, Zayn. What's bothering you?_

He had shaken his head, then, denied the possibility that there was something that was troubling him, promised him it had been a one time thing.

Zayn didn't know when he had become so talented at lying to others, to himself, about his feelings.

The door bell rang again, and this time he threw the spay can to the floor, which bounced off the carpet.

He left the room, locked it behind himself, because no one was allowed in there, _no one_. He strode across the living room angrily. There was a floor to ceiling window here too, but Zayn felt the one in the room was more _him_ than this one. This one was wider, a show-off, and you could have a wider view of the city around. It was more for other people than for himself, because it was too public, he felt, situated in the living room.

He reached the door, didn't care to check who was on the other side, opened the door and snapped out a "What the hell do you want?" to the person on the other side before even looking at him.

Harry looked a little relieved to see him as he sighed out. Zayn suddenly felt very concious of his clothing which was a black Batman shirt which was so worn out that it had a hole on the sleeve and sweats.

And Harry looked amazing as always but he had dressed up in a suit, looking regal.Zayn stared at his outfit for a minute before saying,"Am I missing something?"  
Harry had taken to watching his dress shoes, but he looked up then with hesitance in his eyes.

"Um. Today is the engagement party, I thought I told you?"

No, Zayn didn't know that. Didn't want to know that. He needed a month's notice at least, so that he could pack up his bags and never come back.

Zayn wondered if Harry could hear his heart shattering.

Zayn scratched his head while saying,"Uh.. No. I don't think so, I didn't know."

"But you are coming right?"

The question made him wonder whether Harry thought about it or not, the possibilty that Zayn had fallen for him. Whether he had been suspicious all along. But Zayn didn't really want to know, as if he found out that Harry had known all this time, and yet not tried to address it in any way, Zayn would be left broken in a way that would be irreparable.  
However Zayn doubted it. Harry was one of the most oblivious people he knew, when it came to guaging someone else's extent of feelings for him. On top of that, he wasn't always very sure of himself, didn't know about the effect he had on people. He was clueless.

"Uh. Yeah. I guess. Just let me get dressed."

Harry nodded his assent and looked warily at him.

"Zayn?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you maybe let me inside?"

Zayn realised then that the whole time harry ahd been at the door and he behind it, holding it open.

"Yeah. Sure,"Zayn replied flustered, opening the door wider and letting Harry in.

Harry knew his way around the apartment had been here enough during nights, and led himself to the couch and flopped down on it. 

Zayn was suddenly struck with the image of that one night when...

"Uh. Um. I am just going to go and change, if you don't mind."

Harry smiled and nodded, while Zayn left to go to his room, closed the door and sunk down against it.

He couldn't deal with this. He couldn't. He could pretend everything was alright, but he didn't know how much longer he would be able to keep up this act of being alright with the way his life was slowly edging towards a disaster. He needed to do something and soon. He needed to fight, just like he had decided to on the day Harry told him about it.

He would have to, because Zayn didn't think he would heal this time.

¤

When Zayn left the shower, he was surprised to find Harry sitting down on his bed, staring at something he couldn't see, with his back turned towards him.

Zayn felt heat in the tips of his ears and he knew he was blushing.  
Here he was, in a towel, in front of his best friend, someone who didn't know Zayn was in love with him.  
It wasn't like Harry hadn't seen everything before, but since he was getting married to someone who was definitely not Zayn he felt weird.

He quickly dropped the towel, and pulled on a pair of boxers from where he had laid everything down on the bed. He pulled on his shirt and started buttoning it up.

"Zayn?"

"Yeah?"

"I saw him, yesterday,"Harry was still with his back to him.

"Him?"

This time Harry turned to look at him.

"Zach."

Zayn felt the breath go out of his body, like someone had punched him and he blanched.

_Zachariah._

"So you talked to him?", Zayn tried to fake nonchalance at the news, opening his closet and starting to look for a tie, just to occupy his hands which had started shaking.

"No... He kind of pretended that he didn't recognise me and-"

Zayn slipped out a tie, and started to wind it around his neck.

"Can we not talk about him, please?"The desperation was clear in Zayn's voice as he fumbled with his tie.

"OK."

There was a heavy silence as Zayn continued to struggle with his tie, trying to stop the tears.  
Then Harry was in front of him, taking the tie gently from his hands and starting to tie it.

"Were you angry with me because of him?"

Zayn didn't know what to say, whether to tell him the truth or not. Whether to tell him what Zach had accused him, however false it had been then, had ended up being true, becauseZayn could tell what the question truly meant.

_Are you unhappy that I have moved on?_

"No. No Harry. I just-never mind."

Harry shot him a brilliant dimpled smile full of relief and gratitude that always had Zayn's knees going weak.  


"Come on,"he said, finishing with the tie, and shot him a final look while leaving the room.

Zayn fixed his hair, and snatched the watch up from his bedside table when he noticed Harry's phone there.

He didn't know why he did it, maybe because this was him fighting for him. Maybe all the memories about Zach and all his accusations led him to do it.

He took Harry's phone, unlocked it (the password was relatively simple, 'Loubear' Harry had told him when he was drunk). He opened up the contact.

_Don't pick up or call_

It made Zayn smile, Harry's childishness.


	6. What I Saw

Zayn often wondered whether a person who was born blind suffered less than a person who lost their vision later on in life. Because someone who had been born blind never knew the world around him, the colour of the sky, the drops of rain, the colour of the sunset.

Can you really miss something you never had?

However a person who lost his vision would always know. Always know that he was missing _something_. He would have known the world with all its colour, in all its glory. He would know what an apple looked like, the colour of the blue ocean, the face of the person he loved maybe, and have it taken away from him. Shoved into a dark abyss with no light at the end.

He would know how everything looked like, but he would never see again, and the memories would taunt him until he died.

So Zayn often wondered whether this was what he had with Harry. Whether if he would still feel the sting of hurt when Harry was happy with Louis if he had never known how Harry's kisses felt like. His touches. His moans. If not having him even for a little second in this infinity would lessen the pain when Harry slipped on a ring on Louis' finger.

¤

Zayn shoved through the door to the roof reaching for the edge. For a moment, he considered jumping off the edge straight down just not to feel _anything_ for anyone anymore, especially for someone who didn't give two fucks.  


He loosened his tie and he didn't realise he was crying till the faint breeze blew on the tear tracks on his face and he tasted something salty.

During the drive to the hotel where the hall had been booked and every moment until their 'public engagement' took place, Zayn had felt guilt tugging at him. He had almost warned the guards and the usher about someone by the name of Nick Grimshaw.

And then Harry and Louis took the stage, both of them made two very silly and very clichèd speeches about loving each other ( Zayn had rolled his eyes, but he had loved the words actually and he hated himself more for that).

He was gripping his champagne flute so hard, he was afraid it would shatter in his hands.

He didn't feel guilty about it then, about ruining a _memory_ for Harry and Louis, a story that would be passed on to their kids and grandkids, because he knew there was no _HarryandLouis_ and if he got his way, there never would be.

He saw the little touches, the shared giggles, the unspoken words that spelled out secrets none of them would ever know. He saw the way that they held hands through their speeches, and everytime Harry fumbled, Louis wouldn't make fun of him, just squeeze his hand and look reassuringly at him. It was strange how someone like Harry who had performed for millions of people could be nervous about a speech in front of fifty, but Zayn knew it was because of Louis.

_Love was a strange thing_

He had stared as Harry slipped on the ring, a simple but beautiful Cartier one, and everyone cheered loudly, all the people who mattered.

But everything was just static on his ears and all he could hear was thumping in his head and remembered a similar ring...

Then Harry had looked across the room and smiled at him, adding a wink.

That was when he had lost it.

Zayn didn't know whether he noticed it, the fake smile he had shot him, whether Harry had ever bothered to learn the difference.

As soon as Harry had looked away, Zayn was out of the decorated hall they had booked to have their engagement in front of their friends and family.  


Zayn had taken the stairs, he needed some time to think.

All he could remember was Gemma's delighted smile, Jay and Anne crying. Daisy and Phoebe, Louis' younger two sisters squealed at them, Felicite and Lottie shared high fives. Zayn hadn't missed his mom crying too, and hugging Anne and he had felt white hot jealousy at that, his mum crying for them, oblivious to his pain. He flet betrayed, hurt that no one realised his agony.

And those cheers had felt like everyone was jeering at him.

On the roof he let it go. He cried and then _sobbed_ , sobbed till he was kneeling on the floor. No one came looking for him and he didn't know whether to feel angry for that or grateful.

He patted the pocket of his trousers for his lighter and pack of cigarettes, and tried to light up one. The breeze was strong enough to blow the flame out, and he couldn't keep the flame up long enough to light the one between his lips, even after cupping his fingers around the flame.After two or three attempts, he threw the lighter away and flicked the cigaretter away.

And just sat.

He listened to the cars honking, felt the gentle caress of the breeze, and closed his eyes.

He didn't know how long he had been there when he heard the door open again.The light in the staircase behind the door didn't let him see more than the silhouette of the person at the doorway, but then he moved in.

_Liam._

Zayn remembered having met him sometime during the night, and Liam had quickly realised that he wasn't interested in conversing with anyone.  
He had looked good, the dark blue suit and trousers were well fitting, the first two buttons on his white shirt were unone, and the tie had been given a miss. 

But he had looked better because he was actually happy for Louis, his best mate and it made Zayn feel bad.

The light from the moon shone down on them, soft and never overpowering like the sun was sometimes, and it was hard to believe that it was the same light, from the same light source.

Liam looked worried, Zayn didn't know about what.

"Zayn?", Liam asked gently as if he thought Zayn was asleep.

"Yeah?", he said feigning non chalance because he suddenly had a very good idea what had happened.

"Nick was here."

That was enough for Zayn to pull up from where he had been sitting.

¤

There was a hush spread out over the whole hall when they entered it.

The atmosphere spelled out doom.

All that could be heard were the little shouts from one corner of the room, where he could see Harry and Louis huddled.

Some people had left, wanting no part in the drama, content with having run the bar dry and the plates empty.  
So much for family and friends.

He could see Anne and Gemma worried, Jay too. He could tell they were dying to talk to the couple, but had stayed back to allow them some privacy. They looked back at them everytime one of them gave out an exasperated shout, that they clearly wanted to keep down.

Harry was running his fingers through his hair again and again, messing it up completely.

"I didn't! You know I wouldn't!"

"But you did Harry! He showed me the text! How can you still lie?", Louis asked incredulously, crossing his black clothed arms across his chest.

"Because he is a liar, he probably wanted...", Harry tried again.

"Don't." There was fire in Louis's blue eyes and he looked ready to hit Harry.

"What so you don't trust me, huh?",there was faint annoyance in Harry's mostly calm voice.

"You are making it hard for me to do that", Louis let out a snarky laugh.

"I am telling you, he's lying! For Christ's sake!"

"And you two make a very good pair", Louis deadpanned.

Harry looked up then, and god, he was angry.

"What do you mean by that?"

Louis looked like he regretted saying it, but then he looked over Harry's shoulder at Liam.

Liam had told Zayn what had happened. Nick had shown up a little later after the engagement. And, in short, Louis had blown up. Nick had left after a few, escorted out by security but not before showing Louis the proof.

Louis _hated_ Nick. Zayn didn't know why, maybe Harry had told him about the months he had been together with him. But he knew Louis detested, despised of him. They had gotten into quite a few Twitter spats, that had been well publicised.

But Louis had no right to say what he did, to imply Harry was a liar, like Nick, and felt angry on Harry's behalf.

"Hey!", he spoke out before he knew, and he knew it came out harsh.

Harry looked back in surprise, because they had been so busy quarrelling that they had become oblivious to the world around them.

"You have no right, Louis.", he spat out next.

ouis stared at him, eyes narrowed and Zayn knew it wasn't his palce, but he couldn't help himself. Louis looked at Harry, who was glaring at him, and then back at Zayn again.

He rolled his eyes and turned to Liam, avoiding Zayn and Harry, and not for the first time in his life, or even the last few hours, Zayn began ennumerating all the reasons why he hated him.

"Liam, can you please drive me back?"

Liam nodded and followed Louis, not before squeezing Harry's shoulder to console him and giving Zayn a strange look.

Louis strode across the room, giving his mom and sisters and Anne and Gemma kisses on the cheek before he left.Harry stared at the floor, his anger fading and giving away to sadness that pulled down the corners of his mouth and furrowed his eyebrows.

Zayn looked up to see his mum looking at him in the same way Liam had and he suddenly felt like hiding.

Gemma made her way across the room, a scowl on her face.

"What were you thinking, Harry? How could you? Especially today?"

"I didn't, OK? I didn't! Why don't you believe me?"Harry shouted out and Zayn took a step back and Gemma looked just as astounded.

There were tears now, of frustration from not being believed, from being cornered and Zayn knew the feeling all too well.

Harry brushed past Gemma and it was then Zayn felt the weight of everyone's stares and gazes. 

And the silence.

He suddenly felt embarassed like he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have.

"You shouldn't have come between them.", Gemma whispered, but her tone was cold and it froze Zayn's blood.

He had always liked Gemma and there was a brother-sister bond between them that they both cherished.

Hearing those words felt like a blow to the stomach, like a validation of every ounce of guilt he had felt doing this.

Zayn knew she didn't know it was him who had sent that message,which he had deleted from the outbox as soon as he had sent it, but he couldn't help but think Gemma did.

Why was it so wrong that he had stood up to Louis? Didn't his capacity as Harry's best friend (and _something more_ )give him the right to do this, to defend Harry? Or was he really that insignificant?

He didn't even stop to greet his mom on the way out.


	7. He smiled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh. Please don't throw anything heavy at me. I am sorry! Believe me! My writers' block was very insistent, and I have managed to drive it away with the happiness of spring. I am a horrible person, really. Life gets in the way and so do the actions of the people you write fiction about. I hope you know what I am talking about. Anyway, I am here now, and I want to finish this story as soon as possible. If anyone has stuck around this long, thank you. And those who haven't, I don't blame you.
> 
> Feel free to leave comments, completely unrelated to the story even, because I love to talk to people and get to know them. I will love you forever if you recommend songs that I just HAVE to listen to and books that I need to read! Really, I will be waiting.
> 
> For those who want to critique this, please don't be cruel, 'cause I may be just a username to you, but I am actually a person.
> 
> Will await your thoughts...

_There was giggling. The ghost of a kiss on the back of his neck. The warmth of a familiar body close to his._  
He smiled. Waking up like this was so much better. Waking up to a loved one was so much better.  
He wanted to do this all his life. 

_Her voice, sleepy and soft, reached his ears.  
"Wake up, silly! It's getting late!"_

_He turned towards the voice, to look at the most beautiful person in his life and opened his eyes_

_He screamed as he stared at the corpse on the bed, eyes wide open, skin pale and turning blue. Her hand outstretched, a gash on the wrist, gravity slowly sucking the life out of her._

_Drop by drop._

_A pool of blood._

He woke up with a start, panting and scared. He leaned against the head board, sweating profusely.  
The dogtag against his hot skin was all cold metal. His shirt clung to his sweat slick skin. He squeezed his eyes closed, but the haunting image lingered beneath his eyelids.

The same nightmare. Again and again and again. Until he was afraid just thinking of having a lie-down. It was pathetic- he was scared of sleep now. He didn't think he could take it anymore- her lifeless eyes, her blood- funny since as a doctor he had become immune to the sight of dead bodies.

No, it wasn't just that. It was the crippling sense of failure. That he had been so oblivious to her pain-that he couldn't help her. He had never understood how broken she was inside until the day he came back to find her like that, lifeless. He hadn't been able to see through her fake smiles, hadn't called her out. He had believed her when she had said she was O.K.

He had always been in love with her, had known her in and out- but had never realised that she would choose death over life. A life with him. A fairytale with a happy ending.

He looked at the clock. The red numbers blinked up at him.

_3 a.m._

He rubbed his eyes, and got ready to face the day. He knew sleep wouldn't come to him again. He wasn't sure he wanted it to.

He sat in silence, drinking his coffee in front of the picture, as was his practice.

¤

There were ten missed calls from Louis. It was nothing surprising, after so many years, you just got used to his impatience. However, after what had happened the previous day, he really didn't want to assume.

Louis, the colourful personality he was, was also a person who loved with all his heart. And got his heart broken nine out of ten times.  
Harry was the only person who could stand his craziness, even Liam found it irritating on his worst days. Harry was the calm to Louis' storm, you wouldn't know one without the other. When they came together, Liam was convinced Louis was going for a perfect ten on ten score, because both of them were each other's contradictions.  
He was so wrong. He had never seen Louis fall as fast for someone as he did for Harry. He never wanted to see that actually, it could be pretty scary to observe if that kind of head-over-heels love was unrequited. 

But Harry was absolutely in love with him too, so it made a beautiful sight to watch.

_**Paint my love, it's the picture of a thousand sunsets-  
It's the freedom of a thousand doves** _

Louis and Harry could potentially have a happily ever after. 

If Liam had his way, what had happened last night would only be a distant bad memory, lost among millions of good ones.

He wouldn't let Louis lose his happily ever after.

¤

"Yeah. He called his ex. So what?" Liam tried to reason with Louis, although he was already regretting his decision to.

Louis only listened to one person- himself.

"So what? How can you be so calm about this, Liam? He wanted to meet the Grim on our engagement night! It was supposed to be our day!"

Liam sighed.

"What are you angry about then?"

Louis looked at him like he had escaped from a mental institution, which wouldn't be surprising for anyone who had been Louis' best mate for years. It was taxing on his sanity.

"Yeah. I am not supposed to be angry about this at all. 'Cause engagements are when you suddenly remember your ex!"

"Has it crossed your mind that he might have called him to make him jealous?"Liam hoped it would work, genuinely hoped.

Louis looked thoughtful.  


"Why would he lie about it? He should have just said-"

"Did you give him a chance to explain, Louis? You just ran out of there, and not before acccusing him of lying to you. You compared him to his ex, even."

Louis looked ashamed, and downcast as well. He was still dressed in his pyajamas and his eyes were red rimmed, which he had claimed were from 'allergies'. 

"He hates Grim. He never told me why- but he hates him. Why would he call him?"

Liam leant on the floor beside the chair Louis was sitting on, looking up Louis and whispering."That gives him more reason, doesn't it? Show off his amazing husband-to-be? The amazing Tommo?"

Louis smiled.

"Yeah. No one can resist the Tommo. The Amazing Tommo. I like it."

Liam sighed. His blatant lack of modesty. That was more like the Louis he knew.

"You should talk to Harry. Now, hurry up. I have work, unlike you."

Liam walked around picking up Louis' clothes that he had discarded around the flat. He never missed a chance to play mother hen.

"Liam?" The vulnerability in his voice made him turn to face Louis.

"I am doing the right thing, aren't I?"Louis looked so unsure of himself, and Liam wanted Louis to be his confident self again.

Liam smiled.

"The very rightest. Get dressed now, or I'll drag you out like this."

Louis was out of his seat in a second."Horrible grammar, Payno!"

Liam's mind wandered as Louis ransacked his wardrobe for something to wear.

Someone had called Grimshaw last night. He had convinced Louis but was not convinced himself. If Harry really had called Grim to make him jealous, why had he so vehemently denied the accusations thrown his way? If Harry hadn't called him, who had?

¤

Louis shifted from one foot to another, impatiently waiting for the door to open. Liam stood stoic, and was, frankly, uncomfortable. It was his first time visiting Zayn's house. He had been surprised when Louis had entered a different address into the GPS; apparently Harry had spent the night at Zayn's. 

He was used to meeting celebs, so that novelty had worn off, because as a songwriter and producer, Louis got around a lot and took Liam along with him.

Zayn was _different_.

Liam just didn't know what to think of Zayn. He had seen enough of him on TV and listened and liked his music, but meeting him in person was an altogether different story. He wasn't sure Zayn liked him in the first place, and being around someone who dislikes you, pretty unavoidable when he is your best mate's fiance's best mate, was taxing. Despite of innumerable meetings when Louis and Harry had disappeared to suck face, Zayn hadn't been interested in coversation at all.

He answered in words and then he would stare at his surroundings, whether a club, a restaurant, or even Harry's place.He saw a different side to him everytime he met him.

The night he had saved him, he was guarded and ...broken? Yeah, he looked broken.

The next morning he was embarassed, grateful and that night he was moody and distant.

So _variable._

Liam got a feeling he was not Zayn's favourite person, and he didn't have any idea why.

The door opened and there was Harry, shirtless, sweats hanging obscenely low on his hips, which Liam averted his eyes from.  
Behind him, the morning sun shone in through the glass windows lighting up the wide expanse of the room, and the side of Harry's face and his curls that he had pulled into a bun. He saw Louis staring at his chest, at the tattoos, while Harry stood at the doorway.  
Liam rolled his eyes.


End file.
